Force of Nature
by lulu-ny
Summary: Back by popular demand—okay, like, ten people asked for it—this is the sequel to Complements. Olivia and Daniel (my version of Ana and Christian) are together and happy but when Daniel starts to have nightmares and memory loss, Olivia starts to wonder what is really happening and if more mortal danger is just around the corner, waiting to steal their happiness.
1. A Force of Nature

**A/N: **Okay, finally. Finally, I'm finished revising AFON and it will be published later tonight or tomorrow or as soon as I finish formatting it. For those of you who read it on FF, well, a lot has changed. If you read it again, you might hate me for the new ending. There's a lot different within the story as well but the majority is the same. Different first chapter, different ending, and some things edited out or expanded. I think it's a better book, obviously. With my next update, I'll include a buy link and will ask you guys to write a review if you've read the book. I'm posting the prologue and maybe the new first chapter here to refresh your memory and hope some of you will want to buy the book.

**Prologue**

We are alone in the room, just the two of us. I stare at his face, searching for some small sign of recognition. But there is none. The only emotion I detect in his visage is uncertainty. Or maybe it's fear? Hard to tell.

We sit there, trying to avoid catching one another's eyes. His arms are tied tightly behind his back and lashed to the headboard of the iron bed. He must be uncomfortable. I'm sitting at the small table that Joseph uses for his meals when he's here. The apartment is only about 700 or 800 square feet total—it's one large room, which serves as living room, bedroom, kitchen, and dining room all rolled into one. Still, it's sufficient, I think, as I look around, trying to distract myself with the mundane.

With no telegraphed warning, he throws his head back, slamming it against the wall behind the bed and a loud cry pierces the silent apartment, the wail of a wild animal trapped in a steel jaw. I wince and look over at him: there's desperation reflecting back at me.

"Please help me, let me go. I need to get back to my family."

I peer at him closely and gently ask, "What family?"

It's a simple question but it seems to throw him into a tailspin. A frantic glaze slides over his eyes.

"What did you do to me?" he shouts. "I can't even remember my own damn name!"


	2. Chapter 2 (update)

A/N: Hi friends! So AFON is now available on Amazon Kindle and the print book will be available as soon as I find time to format it. I wanted to ask you—if you read the book when it was on FF in most of its entirety, would you consider going to either Amazon or Goodreads or both to leave a review? It would be so very much appreciated. I'm posting the opening of the book again here but if you visit Amazon, you can get a much longer free peek inside. There are many changes to the one I originally posted (much of it due to your feedback) but the story remains unchanged for the most part. It now has an epilogue set 18 months into the future. I was going to be very cruel with the epilogue but I chickened out at the last minute. I will post the one I ditched soon but only readers who know the story will understand what it meant. Here's the link for Amazon:

Type in Amazon dot com and then Complements-Book-II-Nature-ebook/dp.B00C9KWMZU/

and for Goodreads:

type in goodreads dot com/book/show/17786916-complements-book-ii

Here's my website:

Type in luluastor dot wix dot com slash complements

Chapter 1

Fairy tales suck. They invariably promise a _happily ever after_ and I'm living proof that there's no such thing, kids. Not really. Every once in a while, circumstances may lull you into thinking you actually garnered a happy ending, but then something inevitably happens that sends it all spinning awry. I guess the universe is beholden to Murphy's Law—if it can happen, it almost certainly will—_it_ being bad things.

Or perhaps the governing principle in effect is one of simple physics: shit happens.

For a while I thought everything was going to be A-okay. After falling in love with Daniel, he left me twice—for my own good both times—but he came back to me once and I sought him out the second time… and ultimately I thought we could finally relax a little and just enjoy being in love.

But, noooo.

Ah, I felt like I won the biggest lottery back when Daniel first noticed me. There he was, a man who demands adjectives: eerily gorgeous, arrogantly confident, wickedly intelligent, even downright personable when he felt like turning on the charm. And I was just a girl, still in high school, an average girl in every possible way.

Yet for inexplicable reasons, he began to pursue me.

While I still labored under the delusion that all was well, a storm was brewing, gathering enough mass to steal the sunshine from our lives. My last days of peace began on a Sunday morning a few weeks after we returned home from Prague, and my life felt as perfect as the Indian summer day we were having in New York…

Before I even open my eyes, I stretch as if my life depends on it. Mmm, stretching is the next best thing to _you-know-what_. Delaying my roll out of bed, I lie there for a minute, enjoying the heat of the sun's rays enveloping me in light and warmth, making my eyelids flash with fiery red and orange splotches. Before I can fall back asleep, I think of what my day will bring and I nearly leap out of bed, eager to get going, anxious to see my beautiful Daniel.

Everyone else in my house has already gone out, even the dog, apparently, for he is nowhere to be found and his leash is missing from the hook in the hall. On the kitchen table I find a covered plate with breakfast and a half-pot of coffee is on the burner, still hot from brewing—Mom's way of saying, "love you." Grabbing a cup, I sit down to breakfast, and reach for the morning newspaper.

The headline on the bottom half of page two makes me gasp:

"_BOY REMEMBERS PAST LIFE AS WWII FIGHTER PILOT"_

I take a swig of the coffee, and begin to read the article, barely noticing when the hot liquid dribbles down my chin.

"Ow!" Okay, now I notice because my face hurts. This story is unbelievable and lends credibility to some of the information Daniel has told me about how memory works from one life to another.

_Bruce and Andrea Leninger love their 8-year-old son, James, and hope he has a long and happy life with them. His last one didn't go so well._

_About five years ago, James Leninger, who lives in Louisiana, began remembering scenes of a former life, a life belonging to a man also called James— Lt. James McCready Huston, a World War II fighter pilot from Uniontown. Huston was killed near Iwo Jima, Japan, more than 50 years before James Leninger was born._

_At approximately age two, after a trip to an aviation museum, James began displaying knowledge about aviation that was not only too sophisticated for a toddler but was a bit too informed for the toddler's parents._

_The child began telling his parents a story of flying fighter jets in WWII and started experiencing recurring nightmares about being shot down by a plane with a red sun painted on the side of it._

_The Leningers, at first believing the stories to be the product of a child's endless imagination, began to realize that James was not creating but rather remembering. The information the child was providing to them was accurate._

_The fighter pilot James claims to have been had a sister, Anne Barron, 87, of Los Gatos, CA. Barron believes the boy's stories to be true. "It's very hard to describe, but I just can't help but say it has to be true," she said. "He knows too many things. For some reason, he knows these things."_

_Another of Huston's relatives, his cousin, Bob Huston, 74, of Franklin Township, agrees with Barron. "It's amazing," he said. "The way the boy explained how [Huston] got shot down, that's what the people told my mother and his father."_

_Huston's plane was shot down March 3, 1945, while on a mission slated to be his last before returning to the U.S. and home in April, Barron said. Sadly, it became his last mission ever._

_James' nightmares began when the boy was 18 months old (after the trip to the flight museum) and always center on a fiery plane crash._

_"They were terrible, terrible," Andrea Leininger told the Tribune-Review News Service. "He would scream, 'airplane crash, on fire, little man can't get out!' He'd be kicking, with his hands pointing up at the ceiling."_

_Andrea Leininger now believes in reincarnation and is convinced her son was Lt. Huston in his previous life. She is relieved, however, that James' recollections have receded as he's gotten older. The Leningers think that eventually the memories will completely fade and it will help him lead a more peaceful existence this time around._

_Still, James retains a few quirks as a result of his memories._

_"He uses some dated expressions that we have never used. He has interests in seeing historical things, rather than just wanting to go to Disney World," his father said._

_In September, 2004, when James was 6, his father took him to a reunion of veterans who served on the _Natoma, _the aircraft carrier on which Huston was stationed._ _James was able to recognize some of Huston's former shipmates after 60 years._

"_His comment was 'They're all so old.'"_

Wow. It's weird that once you learn about something—in my case, reincarnation—you begin to see evidence of it everywhere and wonder how you ever missed all the signs. There are lots of recorded stories similar to this little boy's. Then there are those encounters with people you swear you somehow know but any connection is seemingly impossible. And hearing stories of people meeting for the first time and falling in love at first sight, or feeling as if they've known one another for eons—there may be a lack of empirical evidence but there's plenty of anecdotal incidents that point to reincarnation being as real as global warming.

Of course, I have the hottest, most tangible proof that it's a fact of life. I'm on my way to see him now. As soon as I shower and dress, I head out to the East Village and Daniel's apartment. Even though weekends are usually reserved for my family, I want to spend today with him.

Before I'm even completely through his front door, he begins to take off my clothes, kissing me the whole time I'm trying to talk to him.

"Daniel," I say between kisses, "I want to show you something." I hold up the newspaper article.

"Yes?" he asks, as if he's listening, but he just keeps doing what he's doing, which, right now, is unbuttoning my shirt.

"Aren't you interested? It's an article about reincarnation."

"Of course I'm interested," he says, and then begins to run his tongue down my throat. I've just now noticed that he's got my shirt completely unbuttoned and is pulling it open. Damn, but he's fast and sneaky.

I know he's not going to pay attention to anything until after we do it, so I give up trying to talk to him, toss the paper on a table, and start to remove his clothing, too. I get only as far as opening a single button of his shirt when he grips my hand and drags me with him. Instead of leading me into the bedroom, however, he pulls me into the dining room.

"Where are we going?"

He doesn't answer. Instead, he pushes his hands up my skirt, grasping my waist in the same movement and lifts me onto the table. Now, I'm sitting on the long polished wood table with my skirt hiked up, my bra yanked down and my shoes still on.

Bending my knees and pushing my feet up on the table, heels and all, he looks down at me, his eyes heated with unadulterated lust. "Mmm, Olivia, you look so hot right now—I should photograph you."

"I don't think so, Daniel. This is not my best angle."

He laughs quietly. "I beg to differ, love," he says as his hand slides up between my legs.

"Ah," I close my eyes to concentrate on what he's doing to me. It never gets old with Daniel. I feel as if I could spend the next fifty years with him and still be as excited as the day I met him. He already knows my body so well and his fingers wander in all the right places—it's kind of amazing how unerring they are.

"Daniel… now. Come to me." My voice is strangely deep and hoarse as I hold out my arms to him—my legs are already in the welcoming position.

He shakes his head slowly, "I'm not feeling that easy today. First, you have to tell me what you want, Olivia."

I glance sharply at his face, not sure I heard him correctly. He stares into my eyes, a slightly amused expression gracing his face. "What?" I ask, dazed.

"I think you heard me: I said, tell me exactly what you want.

This whole time his fingers are on me, _in me_, working me over, making me need him, like, desperately now."

"You're going to make me say it?"

"Yes. I want to hear you tell me specifically what you want me to do to you, baby." He takes my hand and rubs it over his tremendous hard-on. "Want that? It's all for you. All you have to do is say the words—ask me—and it's yours for the taking. You can do it." He whispers the last part.

I throw my head back in frustration, banging it on the table. Damn him, he always has to subjugate me in some way. I understand he's alpha but does he have to smear my face in it? Sometimes he feels more an adversary than a lover.

"Please, Daniel? Make love to me?"

"What specifically do you want, Olivia. Tell me."

"I just did: I want you to make love to me."

He shakes his head and smiles gently. "Be more specific: talk dirty to me. Tell me what you want."

"Oh, please don't make me say it. You're being mean. I want you inside me—you know what part; you just want to humiliate me, Daniel and I don't get why."

"Not humiliate, Olivia, just coax you out of your inhibited shyness. Whisper it in my ear, if that makes it easer." He leans down.

It does make it easier: I whisper the words he wants to hear and he smiles again. "Good girl. Now beg me as if your life depends on it and you'll get what you want, my beautiful girl. Do it quickly."

"Pleaaaase, Daniel, please!" I'm really begging, because his fingers are tormenting me and I really need him, really need him a lot. Finally satisfied, he stops his teasing, pulling my hips closer to the edge of the table, and unzips his jeans.

"Okay, baby, here I am, just for you," and he shoves into me, right past my panties, with such force that I slide up the table. He pulls me back to him, holding my shoulders for leverage and pummels me with his force.

"Fuck!" I scream, as my body feels stretched to the breaking point.

"Baby, I am. Do you want it even harder?"

"Yes!" I shout, ready to explode and somehow he ratchets it up a notch, slamming his hips between my legs and I detonate. Obviously I pull him with me for he follows immediately—my small revenge for his ungentlemanly behavior.

He's done it again, given me an astoundingly intense orgasm. The SOB knows what he's doing, both physically and psychologically. I find I am slave to his whims… and I'm pretty sure he knows I love it.

Later that week, we're lying on his bed listening to music and I'm openly gazing at the man's remarkable beauty—his long, lean but muscled limbs, ripped chest and abs, intense green eyes, flawless bronzed skin… sheesh, I could go on incessantly—and marveling that he's actually mine. I even occasionally resort to pinching myself. Daydreaming, I again recall the first night we spent together.

Daniel Butler was so far out of my league that we weren't even in the same ocean—I was Atlantic; he was Pacific. I met him when I was visiting my father, Derek, in the UK. When my eyes alighted on this masculine beauty, I never in a million years would have even fleetingly entertained the possibility that he could become mine. Sincerely. Yet here we are less than a year later, together, in love, and having been to hell and back, side by side.

Daniel was used to women dropping into bed with him if he as much as smirked at them, yet he patiently—for the most part—waited seven months for me to finally give up and give in. It was my eighteenth birthday and it proved to be the most romantic night of my life—not to mention the hottest. Daniel is an expert lover and he takes me to places I never before knew existed. Now I know why people do such stupid things for sex—the organic understanding seeped into my heated blood that very night. I'm about to relive the sensual experience minute by minute when his silky voice ruptures the moment.

"Olivia. You have to marry me—soon."

I roll my eyes and groan.

"Stop the attitude right now," he snaps, his eyes shooting sparks. "We've waited long enough."

I say nothing, my eyes on the ceiling, studying the plaster medallion.

His hand gently swivels my face towards him. "Look, I totally get your reticence. Before my accident, I would never have considered marrying so young; in fact, I might have seriously considered _never_ marrying—at least until I met you," he adds quickly.

Daniel is persistent, I'll give him that much. Lately, he's been at me about this marriage thing every time we're together, so I know it's just a matter of time before I finally cave. I promised both my parents I wouldn't marry him until at least I finished college. If only I could tell them the truth behind our relationship, maybe they'd understand, and I could just marry him already. But I can't divulge the secret, and in any case, my parents would surely have a difficult time believing any of it.

"What is it that you object to exactly? Are you unsure about your commitment to me?"

"Daniel, of course not. It's just that I'm only eighteen years old. Why is it so important that we make it legal, anyway? We love each other and we're emotionally committed to one another. Isn't that enough for now? Can't we just listen to music and not have this conversation for the gazillionth time?"

Anger flashes in his eyes but it's gone again in a moment. He has a quicksilver temper but it's imperative he keep it under stringent control or someone can get seriously hurt.

"Try to see the big picture, Olivia. I understand you're still very young. But… things are very different for us."

He sits up and pulls me onto his lap. "We're not like other people our age—at least I'm not. If only I were able to pull you up onto my wavelength… well, I guess that's what I've been fighting for all along, for you to truly comprehend, with your mind and gut," he touches my temple, then my abdomen. "I don't blame you if you can't. I probably wouldn't have been able to either."

I'm about to remind him that I am significantly younger than he is but he distracts me by pushing my hair away from my neck so he can kiss me up and down my throat, my ear, my neck—he knows it's my Achilles' heel.

"I'm in this for life. I'm yours and you're mine. What could be simpler? I want our life together to start now, Olivia. I want to wake up to you, come home to you; in fact, I'd like to attach us at the hip so I never have to let you out of my sight. I want to love and protect you, sweetheart."

"If that's true, how were you able to stand all those weeks away from me? We didn't even speak on the phone." I almost add the part about trying to call him at my lowest moment but manage to shut up in time.

A forlorn expression crosses his face. I understand why they say the eyes are the windows into the soul—by peering into his lovely green peepers, I can see such depths of emotion.

He looks away from me and I know his mind is traveling. "Those weeks apart—I was so angry… at the world, for giving you to me and then effectively taking you away, since I was exposing you to danger just by being in your orbit… at fate, for torturing me with these memories, which—to add insult to injury—now put my life in mortal jeopardy… and at you, for not sharing yourself with me. As Hepsut I never got to make love to Ankara and here I was going to die without ever having physically known you."

He must have seen the shock register on my face as he confessed his anger over my refusal to jump into bed with him. It was merely caution on my part and I'd play it the same way again.

"I lashed out, Olivia. A part of me wanted to hurt you. You were hurting me—albeit unwittingly. You didn't know that I could see everything you were thinking."

His little smile appears, the one that I've come to love so much, but it's not a happy one, more like a cynical smirk, but it is so Daniel.

"Do you remember after our first date? You caught me wallowing in despair when I rode you back to Derek's?"

I nod, remembering the utter desolation on his beautiful face. His sadness had been inexplicable to me since we had just had a nice day together.

"I'd seen what you were thinking throughout the afternoon—that you should never see me again, that I was definitely going to break your heart, that I fit better with Shannon…"

He grabs my wrist and holds it, looking wistfully into my eyes. "You know, for a long time, I wasn't planning on ever telling you about our past—I didn't want to burden you with it—but after I saw it wasn't going to be as easy to win you over as I had counted on, I began to reevaluate my approach. Besides, it was incredibly lonely knowing you without your knowing how important we were to each other.

"Still, I couldn't bring myself to do it that day. I knew that you were just getting over being hurt—I didn't want to complicate your life. Then, weeks later in New York, that morning at my apartment—you were explaining to me why Derek thought we shouldn't pursue our relationship and when I didn't comment right away, your immediate response was relief. You figured you could be with Jeremy, and that you and I would become casual friends. It was a dagger twisting in my gut."

I wince as he recounts that day. I feel so guilty about it now. Through the filter of his mind reading, every inexplicable behavior of his now makes sense. But in my defense, how could I have possibly known?

"I knew then that I had to tell you everything or risk losing you. I also knew that if I didn't do it right away, I'd lose my nerve. Put yourself in my place. What would you have done?"

"Daniel, I'm so sorry. I couldn't understand what you were going through and I didn't know you were seeing into my freaking mind!" I put my face in my hands, still embarrassed by it all. "I remember drooling over you that day, and suddenly I had this overwhelming temptation to jump you and just kiss you wildly and then you said, 'Do it,' and I was mortified. It occurred to me then that maybe you could read my mind, but naturally I dismissed it as ridiculous."

"Naturally," he agrees, his tone facetious.

I take his hand and kiss it with as much love as I can put into a single kiss, "I want you to know, though, that I truly felt your sadness, Daniel, and it really affected me… deeply."

He squeezes my hand. "I know, sweetheart. You have such a kindness in your soul; you always have, you know. Some things change but others never do. But as for my hurting you when I left, I had profound remorse over it." His voice becomes hoarse with emotion and I can see absolute sincerity in his eyes.

"When you told me you never wanted to see me again and walked out the door crying, it took every molecule in my body to resist going after you. But I was convinced that I was doing the right thing—and it was, Olivia. My anger at you was irrational, but it was only a small part of my impetus. You know the other reasons—the most important ones—that drove me away."

He starts running his fingers through my hair. When Daniel messes with his hair, he's highly agitated; when he starts playing with mine, he's got something on his mind.

He wraps his hand around my throat, wordlessly asserting his dominion over me as his face draws closer to mine. "Marry me, Olivia. You don't have to worry about disappointing your parents; they gave you this life, true, but it's yours to live, not theirs. We can put off having children until you finish your education; I won't interfere in that—I know it's very important to you. But marry me soon. Live with me now."

I stroke his chest through his soft cotton shirt, trying to come up with a way to make everyone happy. It is impossible really. Daniel and my parents are at diametrical odds.

"Let me have a little time to figure out things, Daniel. I'm sort of reeling right now over what you just said, about being angry with me for not sleeping with you right away. To abandon me the way you did… to leave me just… twisting in the wind over something like that is mean and… unconscionable. Don't you think?"

Nodding his assent, he says nothing. He looks away but I know he's still listening.

"And your being angry over it never entered my mind—you seemed mostly good-natured about my putting you off. After all, my reluctance wasn't anything personal. I was only seventeen when we met and I had just been ditched by a guy who I thought cared about me."

"I know, I know. But you have to realize that I have every memory of every life we've shared. You're not new to me, as I am to you, relatively speaking. You are someone I've traveled with for thousands of years. Put it into that context and then try to understand how I felt. Physically consummating our love was so much more than sex to me." He swivels his green eyed-gaze back to me to look into my eyes.

"Let's face it, Olivia: if it was just sexual gratification I wanted, I had lots of options."

I blush when he says that, immediately recognizing the truth in it. Daniel could walk around the block and come back with three women if he wanted. His looks are such that females swoon merely by glancing his way. It's kind of sickening for the girlfriend—that's me now.

The first night we spent together, I asked him to put some loud songs on the iPod, instead of the classical music he had playing. He switched it to _Lonely Boy_ by the Black Keys, turning to wink at me. So he is aware of how much he outclasses me—the lyrics fit us perfectly and the song starts with the words, _Well, I'm so above you_.

Well, now that it's come up—his sexual gratification—I might as well confront the beast head on since his past has always bothered me, especially lately. A few weeks ago he had made some oblique reference to how many women he'd had. He was trying to give me a compliment and he mentioned that he didn't even want to admit how many other females he'd seen for comparison.

I take a deep breath. "It's time to come clean about your physical relationships, Daniel. Let's get them out into daylight. It's patently obvious to me that you're… _experienced_ so I doubt Shannon was your only conquest. You even alluded to how many women you've known—in the Biblical sense—recently. So, out with it: I won't judge."

He rolls his eyes and sighs. "Is it really important for you to know, Olivia? Don't you think it might do more harm than good?" He tries to distract me by caressing me, beginning with my shoulder and moving down to my breast, and he leans in to kiss my neck again—I should never have clued him in on how that drives me wild. He has such full sensual lips that I can hardly resist it when they're on me.

I take his wandering hand in mine, arresting its further progress, and shake my head; he's so not getting out of it. "No. I think honesty is always best and, besides, my imagination is probably worse than reality."

"I don't know about that," he says, looking skeptical. "Would it be enough to say that I've had more than my fair share?" That Daniel smirk makes its appearance again.

Now I roll my eyes and say nothing.

He sighs again and flips onto his back and I still see the hint of a smirk on his flawless face. Uh-oh, I may really get more than I bargained for.

"No moral judgment, you say?"

I nod nervously.

"Okay, here goes. I've been with a lot of girls… women. Before my accident, while I was still in high school, they threw themselves at me. I didn't remember you yet; I would have been a fool not to take advantage of the situation—at least from the perspective of a teenage boy."

"How many, Daniel?"

"I never counted, Olivia. Should I have put notches on my belt or something?" He groans and covers his eyes with his arm—did I mention that arm, those arms, are ripped with well-defined muscle? It's sometimes difficult for me to give Daniel a hard time because I get distracted by his ridiculously good looks, just wanting to hurl myself at his body and have my way with him. But I stand firm now, determined to finally deal with his sexual history.

"First, there was Marisol. Then Shannon and I started dating. Not too long after, I met Emily. And then Annabelle… Marina, Rory, Jess, Lauren, Sarah, Fiona —"

"And you're not done yet? How old were you?"

"I started when I was about fifteen. Those were the girls I… uh… _dated_ before my accident. I think there was another Sarah in there as well, oh and Mary—can't forget Mary. She was double-jointed and had no apparent gag reflex." He grins devilishly. "Then, while I was waiting to discover your whereabouts… I was severely depressed. At that point, it was less a physical thing than… Mentally I was in bad shape. I find it difficult to even think about those days. So, besides Shannon, I was with Nell, Katy… Zoe, Caitlin, Lara… Lydia, Marisa, Ramona—"

My gasp interrupts him. "Not Ramona Cassidy?"

He has the good grace to look ashamed. "Yes, _that_ Ramona."

"Did Shannon know you were messing around with her sister?"

"Of course not. Not that it excuses me but Ramona seduced _me_." He sighs again. "I have put poor Shannon through the wringer. And now she has to contend with you—someone with whom she can never in a million years compete—and she has no clue why. I have to say, though, she's been really decent about it."

"She didn't seem all that decent when I called you one day and she answered the phone at your apartment. She was just as snide as could be."

"What? I never knew about that."

"What was she doing at your apartment, if I may ask?"

"Exactly when did that happen?"

"It was a few days before you took off for parts unknown—and crushed my will to live."

He caresses my cheek. "Olivia, you're killing me. How can I make it up to you, love?"

"Finish answering, for one thing. What was she doing here?"

"I honestly don't remember her being in my apartment during that time."

"When _do you_ remember her being in your apartment? As I recall, your mother got the place for you while we were in the UK. Afterward, we were pretty much together. Why would she _ever_ be here?"

Wide-eyed, he gapes at me. "I couldn't just dump the girl. She had come all the way to Britain to see me. She had faithfully kept in touch with me the whole time I was recovering from the accident, and when I was in Los Angeles. When I came back to New York the first time—before I headed to Britain—we started seeing each other again. I had to break it off gradually."

Surprise etched into his face, he asks, "Would you have wanted me to do that—just pretend she fell off the earth as soon as I got back to New York?"

My face is hot. "Yes, of course. I considered us a couple by then—and you were sleeping with your ex-girlfriend? That really sucks, Daniel. Especially since you promised me that you were celibate since you got back to New York and had your health screening."

I can see alarm in his eyes at my reaction and it gives me some satisfaction to know that I have the ability to perforate his eternal wall of cool.

"I did not sleep with her after I got back to the U.S. and before that I used protection whenever I was with her, Olivia—for that matter when I was with _anyone_—and the last time she and I had any… physical contact in the UK, I told her that I was falling in love with someone else."

"Did you tell her who that someone was?"

"You know what? I didn't have to. She knew it as soon as she lit eyes on you. After we ran into you that night, I suppose my demeanor toward her shifted—I was so angry that you saw me with her— and she sensed the reason why. She asked me point blank about it right before she got on the plane to go home and I told her the truth."

"What exactly did you tell her?"

"She asked me if I had something going on with the girl we ran into that night. She remembered your name. I said 'Not yet, but I'm going to. I think I'm falling in love with her.'"

"So now I _really_ don't understand. Why would she want to continue to see you if you were falling for someone else? Does she have no self-respect?"

He sighs again and I can see this is massively uncomfortable for him. Too bad—it isn't exactly my idea of fun either.

"Shannon probably thought it was just another one of my temporary fixations. I guess she figured if she hung in long enough, things would return to what they were. As for me, I didn't want to just excommunicate her from my life, Olivia. Shannon and I have been friends for a long time. It wasn't really fair to her—what happened. If I hadn't regained my memories, she would have fared much better. Especially because she put up with all of my bullshit, my… I guess I have to say it, infidelities."

"How do I know that you won't do that to me?"

He closes his eyes and enunciates every word clearly. "I am a different man now than I was then—so irrevocably altered. I would never do that to you, Olivia. If you believe nothing else, you have to believe that."

I sit up as a thought occurs to me. "There's something I don't understand. You said if it weren't for your accident, you and Shannon would have been together for much longer. Right?"

"Yes."

"But wasn't your accident preordained? I mean, if a life's trajectory is mapped out beforehand, then wouldn't the accident be part of that trajectory?"

"No. There are certain events in everyone's lives that are predestined to occur. Especially when it involves entering another person's orbit. But there is also the element of chance and chaos in the world of physical matter. Accidents are not predestined and neither are certain other events that are consequences of human error or judgment."

I take a few minutes to think about what he just told me. It makes sense, I suppose, in that cause and effect does seem to rule much of the world, both natural and constructed. But I wasn't yet done with Daniel's past. I needed to know more.

"What about Marisol?"

"What about her?"

"Who was she? How did you know her?"

He takes so long to answer that I think he hasn't heard me.

"Marisol is a woman I met through my father. She worked at his firm and she was considerably older—I was 15 and she must have been at least 25 at that point."

"That's perverted… and illegal. It's called statutory rape. And why would a twenty-five-year-old woman be interested in a fifteen-year-old boy—even one who looked like you?"

"I have no proof, but I suspect my father paid her to _tutor_ me."

"Tutor you?"

He laughs slightly. "In the carnal arts?"

I feel my face redden. "Really? I didn't think fathers did that type of stuff anymore."

"Well, as I said, I have no proof. But as you just pointed out, why would she have been interested in a kid? The fact that legally she could get into trouble also occurred to me but if she had my father's permission and he was compensating her, I suppose that would alleviate some of the risk. It has also caused me to often wonder how my father even knew how supremely gifted she was in that respect. I have to concede the possibility that he had firsthand knowledge of her… talents.

"Whatever. I dated her for about four months and she definitely did teach me quite a bit."

"Does she still work for your father?"

He shakes his head, "No, she left a year or so after our little adventure. I never saw her again."

Apparently Daniel is done talking about his past history and I'm not sure whether or not I even got a full accounting. He rolls over toward me and begins to unbutton my shirt. Ever since I was injured in the church fire in Prague, I've taken to wearing button-down shirts with three-quarter sleeves to cover up my scars, and that's where Daniel always heads first. After hearing about all the women he's known, I'm not really feeling in the mood but I don't protest. After all, I'm the one who insisted on hearing it.

Anyway, Daniel can make me forget anything, even my own name. My shirt unbuttoned, he yanks it off my shoulders, pulling my bra down with his teeth, first one strap, then the other, and finally the whole thing. When it's down around my navel, his lips move up and latch on to my bare breast. I squeal, because he's being rough but he knows I like it.

I whisper, "You like my breasts, don't you?"

He moans lightly and looks up at me to answer. His eyes are at half-mast. "Baby, I'm obsessed with them. I've told you—they're the most beautiful I've ever seen."

He unbuttons my jeans, sliding them down my legs until they're completely off and he's at my feet. His eyes are already on fire as they rove over my body.

"Mmm, Olivia, you look good enough to eat. I think I will," he whispers and slinks up between my legs. I watch as his fingers slip into my panties and rip the crotch out as if it's made of tissue paper. Then his mouth descends on me and I forget about everything else, even his checkered past, as I run my fingers through his silky hair and focus on his expert tongue. Why do I ever think I can resist Daniel?

He's holding my legs so I can't move them at all and there's no outlet for the sexual tension and I just have to give in, give in to his relentless tongue and then I hit the ceiling—I can't take anymore, can't go any further, and I yell out his name as everything inside of me tightly clenches and I come.

He doesn't give me any time to catch my breath; he flips me over, putting pillows underneath me so I can't slide back down and then he's slamming himself inside me until I'm ready to crest but he holds me back, keeps me on the lip. The man has incredible control over his own body and he makes me wait, too, forces me to ride the wave without letting it break and finally, finally, lets me slip over—we both do together. He kisses my back, running his tongue down my spine, and withdraws, pulling me down onto his chest and wrapping his arms around me.

"There's only one woman for me, forever, Olivia. It's just you."

He adds in a husky voice, "Remember what I told you the night you gave me your virginity? "You _are _woman to me. It's the truth, baby. There is only you."


End file.
